


The Blue Dress

by Jude81



Series: Tumblr Prompts [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, No Sex, mention of bullying, trans!Clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 17:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17227934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jude81/pseuds/Jude81
Summary: Tumplr Prompt: Trans!Clarke and lexa were friends as children but one of them moves out of town and they meet again in college after Clarke is half done with transition? Please.Please see author notes





	The Blue Dress

**Author's Note:**

> I've actually been in the process of writing a Clexa fic featuring trans Clarke. I took part of that fic and re-worked it and added things to fit the prompt. 
> 
> Please note that there is no sex in this, nor any mention of genitalia etc. There is mention of bullying and Clarke's original/dead name.

Clarke looked at herself one last time in the mirror, carefully smoothing down the blue sheath dress she was wearing. Perhaps it was a bit much for the first official day of college, especially paired with the black pumps and simple gold locket around her neck. But it was important for her to put her best foot forward. Today was a new day, the start of the rest of her life: no longer as Clinton Griffin, but as Clarke Griffin.

She turned and looked at her profile, her critical eye sweeping across her breasts, five years of hormones had given her small breasts, and for her eighteenth birthday, her parents had paid for the surgery to enhance them just enough to make her more comfortable in her own skin. The other surgery would come later, after college. Her parents had wanted to her to get through college before undergoing such a life-altering surgery, and she’d agreed.

She picked up her bookbag, slipping it over her shoulder. She’d managed to get a full scholarship to Brown, and she couldn’t wait to finally begin her life, where no one had known her as a child. To these people, she would just be Clarke Griffin, double-majoring in engineering and biology. She wanted to build prosthetics for children and maybe even for people like herself.

She was ready.  

***************************

Lexa sat in the back of the classroom, legs stretched out in front of her. She yawned, not quite used to her new schedule. She was a sophomore and starting on the soccer team this year, and she was still adjusting to the early wake-up time. She’d already been on campus for three weeks for training camp and had met the new team members, and she had arrived early to class.

She fiddled with her pen, as she idly drew doodles in her notebook while the small room filled up quickly. Someone else had been to the classroom early, a blonde woman in a royal blue dress. It was a bit elegant for the first day, but Lexa had a feeling it was more about making a good impression, considering the way the girl fidgeted in her seat, constantly smoothing the dress out over her thighs.

She was beautiful, and Lexa wondered if her eyes matched the dress. She sat up a little straighter and bent over her notebook, turning her face just enough to better see out of the corner of her eye. The girl was sitting almost directly across the aisle from her, and there was something almost vaguely familiar about her, the soft line of her neck, and the sweep of her nose.

She took notes throughout the lecture, but her mind was mostly on the girl across the aisle. It nagged at her, burying itself in a corner of her mind. She’d seen the girl somewhere before. She was sure of it.

**********************************

Two classes out of the way, a quick trip to the library, and it was lunch-time. Clarke made her way through the cafeteria, selecting a chef salad with ranch dressing, an orange, and two chocolate chip cookies. Despite wanting to maintain her soft figure and not put on too much weight, she couldn’t ignore her sweet tooth.

She held her tray in front of her, looking around at the crowded cafeteria. She didn’t have a roommate, as she was in a single room dorm, and she hadn’t really had a chance to meet anyone yet. She wanted to sit somewhere private, but not too private so she could still be part of the noise and general chaos of the cafeteria.

She’d spent most of her life on the edges of everything. She’d only really ever had one friend, and she had moved away when Clarke was nine, and she was ten. No one wanted to play with her at recess. No one invited her to parties, and no one sat with her at lunch. She hadn’t joined any team sports, locker rooms gave her panic attacks. She’d been bullied and harassed all her life, never fitting in, never fitting into her own skin.

She carefully made her way to a small table and sat down. It was close enough to a few other tables that had a scattering of students at them, so she didn’t feel entirely alone. She put her napkin in her lap and organized her silverware by height, making sure they lined up perfectly. She opened her bottle of water and poured it into her plastic cup, before moving it into position, just so.

“May I sit here?”

The question startled her out of her routine. She called it a routine, her counselor called it OCD. She looked up, freezing slightly at the sight of the girl standing there with a tray in her hands, patiently waiting for her reply. She nodded.

“Great.” Lexa slid into the seat next to Clarke, clattering her silverware on the table as she scooped it off her tray and dumped it next to her plate. “I saw you in Dr. Sewell’s lecture this morning.” She unwrapped her turkey sandwich taking a big bite as she eyed the other woman, smiling at little at the sight of the wide, blue eyes. They did match her dress.

Clarke nodded, surprised by this loud stranger who sat next to her with complete ease. She was familiar. The laconic grace in her long legs and arms, the defined jawline, and the eyes. She’d seen those eyes before. She felt panic settle into her chest. It couldn’t be. She grabbed her cup and took a drink, her fingers white around the cup.

“Hey are you ok? You’ve got that cup in a death grip.”

Clarke set the cup down with a thunk, lowering her head a little so her blonde hair fell in her face. She wanted to run, hide. Be anywhere but here. She squeezed her eyes shut, and mind conjuring up images of a young girl, with long brown hair, slightly frizzy in the afternoon sun.

_“Come one, Clint. Hurry up!”_

_She ran as fast as her skinny legs would go, blindly following Lexa as she ran, Lexa with the long, coltish legs that could outrun every boy and girl in school._

_She turned on the speed, finally catching up to Lexa and tapping her on the back._

_“Gotcha!”_

_Lexa turned and laughed as she came to a stop, throwing her arm around her skinny shoulders. “You got me, buddy.”_

“Have we met before?”

Clarke shook her head, slowly rising to her feet, hands now gripping her tray. But she froze at the gentle touch on the back of her hand.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’ve obviously done something wrong. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have sat down here. You just looked kind of lonely, like you needed a friend.”

She laughed, and it sounded wet even to her own ears.

_“Hey can I sit here?”_

_She looked up at the skinny girl standing in front of her, gripping a small tray. Clarke looked around, brow furrowed. There were plenty of other seats available. No one ever sat with her, not if they could help it. She was different. Weird. Odd. She was a boy who liked girly things, and they whispered about her behind her back, and sometimes to her face._

_She nodded slowly, and the other girl sat down next to her, opening her carton of milk and taking a big drink, and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand._

_Clint sipped her own milk, unsure of what to make of this new development. She could almost hear the whispering._

_“Hi, I’m Lexa. I like your power-rangers shirt.”_

_“I’m Clint.” She barely whispered it, her chest constricting. She gave Lexa a little smile. She was six, and she’d finally made a friend._

“I-I…” she didn’t know how to say it, how after ten years, Clarke recognized her. Lexa had moved clear across the country when they were kids, and now she was back. Here. At Brown University.

She sat down heavily, her face flushed, her breath shallow.

“It’s ok, just breathe. Is it ok if I touch you? I’m just going to touch you on your shoulder?”

Clarke nodded dumbly.

“ _Hey, it’s ok, Clint. It’s ok. Those boys were just being dicks.” Lexa was ten and not supposed to know that word, but she’d heard it from her cousin Anya. “Is it ok if I touch you?” Lexa had learned that touching her smaller friend was something not to be done lightly._

_Clint hadn’t known the words to describe what she felt, just that her skin itched, that nothing felt right. Everything was out of focus. Lexa didn’t understand what that meant, but she understood the tears dripping down Clint’s red face, the small hands balled into fists, the wheezing in the thin chest._

_When Clint nodded, she slipped her arms around the thin frame and held Clint loosely, pushing the messy blonde hair off the face. “It’s gonna be ok. I promise. It’s going to be ok.” She kissed Clint’s forehead when Clint looked up at her, big blue eyes swimming in tears. It made Lexa’s heart hurt._

She put her head in her hands, elbows on the table, and she nodded. She stiffened at the first touch on her shoulder and then relaxed. The weight of it was heavier, but the way Lexa curled her fingers slightly was familiar to Clarke, and it made her heart ache.

“Hey, it’s gonna be ok.” Lexa squeezed the other girl’s shoulder, something warm bubbling up in her chest. She had done this before, and a memory surfaced, crystallizing on the horizon, and she could almost see it.

“Thank you, Lexa.”

And the pieces fell into place.

“Cli…” She snapped her mouth shut before she uttered the full name. Lexa let go of her shoulder, her mind reeling as she sat back in her chair and stared at the woman who wouldn’t look at her.

_“Come one, let’s play dress up.” Lexa handed Clint the blue dress that her father had given to her on her last birthday. She wasn’t one for dresses really, but she had seen the way Clint had looked at the dress, the way small fingers caressed the soft cloth, the look of almost wonder on the small face._

_“I…I can wear a dress?” The words were soft, unsure, and Lexa turned to look at Clint who clutched the dress, fear and relief warring across the pretty, little face._

_“You can be whomever or whatever you want, Clint.” She smiled at the way the thin shoulders relaxed and the small smile burst forth._

“Blue always was your color.”

_Clint twirled around in the dress, arms outstretched, head back, laughing. The skirt of the dress swished around slender legs, and Clint smiled in happy relief at the feel of the smooth cloth swishing around her legs. She was free. She was she._

Clarke looked up, lips trembling slightly. “You remember?”

“Of course,” she whispered, “you were free that day. I didn’t know then what it meant, but I had never seen such pure joy on another face when you twirled around my bedroom in that dress.” Lexa leaned forward and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Lexa.”

Clarke smiled, her heart aching at the sight of her beautiful friend, whose eyes held only acceptance. “I’m Clarke.”

They shook hands, their hands lingering longer than necessary.

“I’m so happy to meet you, Clarke. To finally see you.”

The tear spilled down her cheek, and Clarke laughed wetly. “I’ve missed you. You were my only friend,” she breathed.

“Oh, Clarke.” It broke her heart at the earnest sadness in Clarke’s eyes. She remembered the long nights after she and her family had moved to California. She’d worried about Clint, worried about what would happen to the skinny boy that was just too different for the rest of the kids. They’d written sloppy letters for a few months, and eventually some memories faded with time.

She reached up and wiped the tear off Clarke’s face. “Look at you, Butterfly. Beautiful and whole. I loved Clint, she was my best friend, and I’m so happy to meet you.”

She’d loved Lexa, the gangly tomboy who backed down from no one, who chased the bullies away, who shared her cookies with her, who let her wear a blue dress and twirl around her bedroom. She smiled and picked up a cookie and handed it Lexa.

And they laughed as Clarke and Lexa, just as it was always meant to be.


End file.
